


The Devil You Know

by transpunkspacejunk



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: (points at curtis) THAT BOY IS A BOTTOM, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, First Time, GET READY FOR ME TO SMEAR MY FILTHY QUEER HANDS ALL OVER THIS FANDOM, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Spit As Lube, because snowpiercer? but warning in case, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transpunkspacejunk/pseuds/transpunkspacejunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edgar wasn't a boy anymore.</p><p>(or, alternatively: guess who has two thumbs and a MIGHTY NEED to see Curtis Everett fucked incoherent by a slight, mouthy Irish dude? </p><p>this guy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am somehow not sorry at all and the sorriest bastard I ever knew all at once.
> 
> I subscribe to the headcanon that Edgar was less of an infant and more of a toddler when he and Curtis uh... met, and thus is eighteen or so, about a year before the Curtis Revolution. 
> 
> Have some porn with only a little angst, which is basically a vacation in this fandom (the actual porn is in chapter two, which is coming hot on the heels of this one after I catch a few hours of sleep, at most).

Edgar wasn't a boy anymore. Short, sure. Underfed, absolutely, but he couldn't be mistaken for a child. He would probably have been stocky in another life, would likely have gained muscle and breadth and solidity with enviable ease, but instead he was here. 

Too thin and too pale by far even for his naturally fair complexion, surviving out of what Curtis could only assume to be bloody-mindedness, Edgar still managed to endear himself to people even past his seemingly boundless energy and his volatile mouth. He forced his way into people's view, insinuated himself into situations where anyone else would assume there wasn't room and add fuel to whatever fire he found; a constant, desperate need to purge his impotent rage against the cruel dictatorship of the Front pushing him to argue and even scrap with his friends-neighbors-family.

Curtis had seen him in vicious arguments that morphed into tearful hugs, fist fights that ended in giggle fits. He had dragged Edgar bodily away from situations wherein his self-destructive streak might have written checks his scrappy strength couldn't cash.

("What's a check?" Edgar asked directly after Curtis had used this particular idiom in a post-scuffle rant, and Curtis had felt suddenly very old and very tired.)

He was Curtis' to protect, and Edgar just didn't know any other way to work off energy, so Curtis had silently resigned himself to pulling the young man--not a boy anymore, perhaps never a boy at all--out of each gnashing maw he so cheerfully threw himself into. He would absorb every bit of wayward energy he could manage, keep Edgar out of harm's way as long as he could. This was his penance.

That's what he told himself, anyway. 

\--------------------

"Have you had sex, Curtis?" 

It came seemingly out of nowhere, completely lacking the undertone of awkward shame the topic would have carried Before. On the Train, sex was... it just was. It sometimes caused babies, it served as a distraction from hunger, from grief.

Prophylactics were extinct, at least in the Tail, but people didn't worry much since the lack of decent food made menstruation a memory for most people with uteri and pregnancy a rarity. Sickness was a constant, who knew how anyone caught what, but since most of the sex in the Tail was had by monogamous couples they thankfully hadn't all been wiped out by aggressive crotch rot. A few, certainly, but such was life aboard the Train.

"Why." Curtis couldn't even make it sound like a question, the word just fell out of his mouth, heavy, and landed with a thud in the relative silence of the car. Most people were asleep, but Edgar had proven repeatedly over his lifetime that he was not most people. 

"Just wonderin'. Have you?"

Curtis grit his teeth before deciding that answering would be shorter torture than arguing over the need for this conversation. 

"Few times."

"Before?" Always so perceptive, Edgar, even if that hyper-awareness only seemed to extend to Curtis.

"Yeah," and he was suddenly done. "Go to sleep, Edgar."

The restlessness from the lower bunk quieted for a few moments, and then:

"What does it feel like?"

"CHRIST", and it wasn't loud, Curtis wouldn't be loud when so many people were sleeping rather than actively feeling hungry or ill, but it was thick, the word fighting his throat all the way out and settling around him in his bunk. "Go to sleep!"

No more words came from underneath him, but within a minute Curtis could hear the slick-slick-slick sounds of Edgar tiring himself out the best way he knew. 

Long after the inevitable (fucking noisy) crescendo, Curtis stared at the rafters above him, unblinking and unwilling to acknowledge the fact that he was desperately, achingly hard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no matter what, edgar will always be curtis' boy (pretty much just blowjobby goodness tbh).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get some actual porn up but I got reeeally carried away so there's gonna be another chapter wherein curtis gets fricked oops

In the end Curtis managed to convince himself that a month was a perfectly respectable amount of time to hold out against Edgar's relentless curiosity, and he buckled just a little.

"It feels good," he admitted on another night much like the first one Edgar had asked. All nights were pretty much exactly the same; the good ones, anyway.

"Just good?" came the reply from under his back, where Edgar was likely trying to stare holes through the bunk above him. 

Curtis forced himself to breathe evenly, then spoke again, "Really good. I don't remember a whole lot of details--" Bullshit, his mind hissed, You remember every second of the reaming Jamie Allen gave you, you'll remember it until you're cold and dead, "--but it's... better. Than doing it yourself." 

There was a short, thoughtful silence from Edgar, like Curtis had actually given him something to work over. Curtis was very deliberately not giving him anything to really think about.

"I wanna try it," Edgar said finally.

Curtis had figured as much, figured someone had caught Edgar's eye and now he needed something to channel all that damnable energy toward. Your own hand got boring after so many years, and pickings in the Tail were slim when it came to partners, even more so if you narrowed it strictly to women. 

"Who did you--"

"I wanna try it with you," it came out rushed but steady, like walking quickly over a very narrow bridge so as to avoid wobbling. 

"No." Curtis was proud of the strength behind his voice when he could so rarely deny Edgar anything. He hadn't even hesitated a bit. 

Edgar didn't say anything else for a while, and Curtis was ready to count it as a win. Then, like clockwork, he could hear the steady, feverish sound of Edgar tugging on himself and as those fucking wet noises made their way up all he could think of was how Edgar must have a man's cock now, how it must have been growing with the rest of him despite the despicable surroundings. He found himself wondering if it would be as fat as he liked, if it would force him open, wide and achy even after being stretched on those blunt fingers. God, it had been so long--

The sounds of Edgar's sticky-slick hand on his cock had been a nighttime sign of normalcy for years now, steadily more difficult to ignore as months wore on and Curtis' imagination got away from him. Steadily more tempting.

"Curtis..." it was barely more than a shaky exhale but it slammed into Curtis like a knife, wedged itself behind his balls and twisted.

"Curtis, d'you--ohh..." hushed, like Edgar didn't know if he actually wanted to be heard, "d'you want to fuck me?" Punctuated by the boy--his boy, no matter what happened, always his boy--pausing, spitting. Taking his cock back in hand and letting out an accidental hurt sound at the new wetness of his grip.

Curtis was speaking, low and dangerous, before he gave himself permission to do it.   
"No, I," his grip tightened on the poor excuse for a mattress under his back, brutal fists clenched, "I would want you to fuck me."

The noise from Edgar's bunk sounded like pain, and Curtis figured he hadn't even thought that was a possibility. This was a terrible idea, but then again, it seemed like Curtis had been making the wrong decisions since he was born. 

"Would you like that?" he continued, "Would you wanna get inside me?" 

Edgar's voice went high and breathy then, sounded like he was already almost finished. Then, "Please, please, come here, ohfuck, come here to me--" and Curtis was on the floor and bulling his way into Edgar's bunk from the foot end before he realized he'd moved, wide shoulders forcing too-lean legs apart so he could look his fill at that gorgeous young cock (and yes, it was thick, uncut, a sweet narrow head capping a decently long shaft that was fattest right at the middle and curved lazily to the left; Curtis wanted it in him so bad he could have cried) strangled in a desperate fist.

"Cu--!" the rest of his name died off suddenly when Curtis yanked Edgar's hand away and, to the young man's stunned delight, sucked him in deep.

He could feel Edgar curl up around it, defensive against this new terrible-incredible feeling, unable to do anything but try to breathe and stare at Curtis' shameful, greedy suck with glassy eyes and a slack mouth. 

Curtis pulled off just long enough to lick under his own tongue, call up what saliva he could and spit on Edgar's cock, too far gone for anything more playful. He slicked his fist down it and swallowed him farther, stretching his jaw sore and tight around the widest few inches and accidentally letting out a hungry noise and that was so fucked up but it wasn't the same kind of hunger and everything was fucked up anyway. He could stand to starve for this the rest of his miserable life, glut himself on the skin and salt and high, reedy noises, and he could provide for his boy.

"Curtis...!" it was a harsh whisper, a warning and a prayer, and Curtis pulled off to growl an order--

"Give it."

\--and Curtis knew Edgar didn't like how much he craved orders from the older man but this one he followed with zero hesitation. He snagged Curtis' hat off and clawed both hands around his shorn head, dragging him down further onto his straining cock and trying to fuck even deeper despite his lack of leverage as he shot, tears of overstimulation spilling down the sides of his face as Curtis swallowed greedily.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also transpunkspacejunk on tumblr if you wanna drop on in and cry about literally everything in this movie with me !


End file.
